


Cut to the Feeling

by usernicole



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, Blood, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Weddings, but not enough that i feel this deserves a graphic violence tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: “Let’s do it again,” Keith says breathlessly. “Here and on every planet we come across. Let’s get married on every planet we can.”“Are you joking?” Lance asks, incredulous. “You really want to get married to me on every planet we land on?”“Yes,” Keith says, voice high pitched and shaky with residual adrenaline. “Yes. Every planet. If it feels like this every time, let’s get married ten, twenty, a hundred times.”“Let’s break records. I want the universe to see us and be jealous.”Or: Five times Keith and Lance get married, and one time they don't.





	Cut to the Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> this is. the sappiest shit. who wrote this? not me. it couldn't have been. 
> 
> i started writing this between seasons 2 and 3, so we're assuming the OG lion formation. i told myself it would be short but im a dirty liar. i've been writing the sequel to my other post-s4 fic and its just SUPER angsty so i decided to finish this and feel better about myself
> 
> this is unbeta'd because i didn't want anyone to witness my shame. if i missed any errors please let me know. if anyone is ooc also let me know but know that i will be destroying myself internally for weeks afterwards.
> 
> titled after the best CRJ song

**1.**

Their first wedding isn’t much.

It’s simple, and a little solemn, standing in the dim light of one of the nicer rooms in the castle. It’s rushed, so there are no decorations, no music.

“What sort of best man am I?” Hunk had worried an hour before, wringing his hands, reaching up to fiddle with Lance’s hair. “I couldn't do anything for you. No flowers, no rings, nothing.”

Lance had laughed, but there was something about his eyes that suggested just how nervous he actually was. There was tension at the corners of his mouth, straining his smile. “It’s no big, buddy. It’ll be perfect, no matter what.”

There’s no one there but the team, despite the castle feeling a lot more full than it's ever been. Matt pops his head in beforehand, congratulating them but unable to pause in preparations to attend. Every so often a rebel soldier or Marmoran warrior walks past the open door. War doesn’t stop for ceremonies such as this, but their allies have shown a surprising amount of understanding. You have to take the good when you can.

Allura is officiating, despite not being much older than Keith and Lance, because they had all agreed Coran would either ramble too much or be too preoccupied with his crying to get through the ceremony. Shiro, the diligent other best man, managed a quick and dirty rundown of Earth weddings beforehand. They are as prepared as they could possibly be, considering the circumstances.

They all stand. There’s not enough of them for seats. Keith and Lance stand in the middle, facing each other, with Allura between them. They're in their armor, the closest thing to formal wear they have, so when Keith reaches to grasp at Lance’s hands before they start, their fingers clink together.

Lance grins at him, but his eyes look sad, so Keith leans forward, keeping his voice low so the others can't hear. “Lance, listen, are you...sure about this?” he asks, then tightens his grip nervously. “Not that I’m not! I just—I know you had...plans. Dreams of this. I know it’s not what you want, and—”

“ _Keith,_ ” Lance says, half laughing. He pushes closer, nudging Keith’s forehead with his own. “Keith, listen.” And he looks into Keith’s eyes, and he still looks a little sad, but also happy, like _ridiculously_ happy. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years now, every part of you. I want to do this because I love you. We don't know what will happen tomorrow, but if anything were to...to take you away from me, or me from you, we will have done this. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, whether that's fifty years or...or fifteen vargas.” He sighs, forehead still pressed to Keith’s. “I want this forever, asshole. So let’s get it over with.”

Keith laughs, blinking the beginnings of tears from his eyes, and they separate to find their team waiting patiently for them. They're all smiling, and Hunk already has tears streaming steadily down his cheeks.

“Right, then,” Allura says cheerfully. “Let’s get this started, shall we? How does it start again, Shiro? Oh, right. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—”

In the dim light of the room, her eyes shine as she looks first at Keith and Lance, then at the rest of the team. When she calls them “dearly beloved” she means it. Keith and Lance have eyes only for each other, never letting go of each other’s hands. There’s a quiet sort of happiness to the ceremony, a steady warmth in the chests of all who attend.

Keith and Lance promise to cherish each other, care for each other, in sickness and in health, till death do them part. And maybe there’s an uneasy stillness in the room when Allura says that, a cloud of tension that settles across the shoulders of them all, but it’s dispelled quickly by Lance, who untangles the fingers of one hand from Keith’s to poke him in the shoulder and interrupts. “That's right, you big dummy. That means you can’t pawn me off on Hunk when I’m sick anymore. You have to make me soup and rub my feet and fetch me things.”

“But you’re such a _bitch_ when you’re sick— _ow,_ hey!”

They kiss at the end of it, as is customary. They've kissed lots of times before, countless times. They’ve kissed on battlefields, on different planets, pressed against ten thousand year old sentient spaceships, and in the quiet darkness of their room. They’ve had happy kisses, sloppy kisses, desperate kisses.

This kiss feels like both a first and a last, a beginning and an end. Lance shakes as Keith slides his hands from Lance’s hands up to grip at Lance’s forearms. Keith steadies him that way, and then kisses away the quivering of Lance’s lips, swallows his stuttering breath. Keith feels his knees going weak with this kiss, despite its gentleness. And when he pulls away Lance is smiling, so wide his cheeks push his eyes almost closed, forcing the tears that had built up out and down his face.

Lance chokes on a laugh, reaching up to wipe them away, but Keith reaches up to do it for him, both hands pressed to Lance’s face. Their friends cheer, and wipe away their own tears, and clap them on the back. Keith and Lance thank them, once, twice, three times, until they're rolling their eyes.

And then there’s a soft knock at the doorway, and Kolivan ducking in apologetically, wishing to speak with Coran. The moment is over. Pidge mentions something about some program she left rendering, and Hunk leaves with her. He’s adding last minute upgrades to the lions. Within moments, Shiro, Allura, Coran, and Kolivan are in deep discussion, faces serious and focused, and Lance huffs a laugh again, squeezing Keith’s hand.

“Guess it’s time to get back to work, huh, hubby?” he says. Keith laughs, squeezing back.

“Guess so, and don't call me that.”

“Sure thing, Mr. McClain.” Keith doesn't say anything about that one.

They leave after that, separating to go accomplish their own last-minute tasks. War doesn’t stop for ceremonies such as this.

Five hours later, and they set off to fight the Galra Empire for the last time, one way or another.

 

 

**2.**

Their second wedding is...well, it’s not _better_ , but it’s definitely more fun.

There’s a lot more people, for one thing. Like, _a lot_ more people. So many people. Keith severely underestimated the size of Lance’s family.

It’s on the beach, Lance’s beach. The wind is a little stronger than they anticipated, but they don't really mind. Keith likes it, even. He likes how, even though Lance’s mom bullied them into wearing suits, their hair is ruffled. Nothing is quite perfect.

Lance had wanted to do it in the little church he’d grown up going to, high up on a hill overlooking the sea, but they couldn't realistically fit everyone. Keith didn't care where they had it, as long as it was Lance wanted.

The ceremony is official this time, with an actual priest and not paraphrased from what they can remember from movies and television. They make their own vows. Lance has his typed up on his phone, and his mom gasps, scandalized, when he pulls it out of his back pocket to read it out. “It’s not like I’m going to snapchat this, ma!” he says, rolling his eyes. But he totally does, and then he makes his promises.

He says it all with a smile so big it’s hard for him to talk. He speaks about how they were when they first met, at each other’s throats, and then about how strong their friendship grew, until he realized it was more. He speaks about forever, and what that means to him. He speaks so quickly, so happily that the words trip over each other sometimes, he’s just so excited.

Keith’s vows are handwritten, scrawled messily across crumpled notebook paper. His hands shake as he pulls them out if his pocket, struggling to unfold them. Keith has faced unspeakable horrors, piloted spaceships through fields of asteroids, plunged his bayard into the druid Haggar, but he’s nervous in the face of this, afraid even.

Lance had asked, repeatedly, whether or not Keith was okay to do this, whether it was what he truly wanted. And yeah, Keith is nervous, and shy, and bad at vocalizing his feelings, but it’s been almost a year that they’ve been back on earth. The McClains have done everything they possibly can to welcome Keith into their family. They gave him a home on earth when he’d long since given up on finding one. It had taken him a long time to truly realize it.

Earlier, lost in the chaos of pre-wedding preparations and trying to find somewhere to hide, Keith had ducked into the kitchen of the McClain family home only to be ambushed.

“Oh, Keith!” Lance’s older sister, Angie, exclaimed. She had her hair pinned up in curlers and was wearing a bathrobe. Held in her arms was Lance. Not Keith’s Lance, but a smaller one.

(Before Lance reunited with his family, Keith hadn’t known it was possible for a person to cry so much. Not just Lance, even. Every member of Lance’s family had turned on the waterworks pretty much as soon as Lance had entered room. Keith had been there, for moral support or something, letting Lance clutch his hand as Lance—and, subsequently, Keith—was bowled over in a tidal wave of extended family. Lance had been, and has always been, an ugly crier, something he would not let Keith forget that day.

“Oh god, this is so bad,” Lance had sobbed over the noise, rubbing his eyes on the sleeve of his very old, very faded, and very ill-fitting hoodie. Lance’s mother, Carmen, had yet to remove her arms from around Lance’s neck. There were also two kids in their early teens latched onto one of Lance’s arms (niece and nephew?). Lance’s older brother and sister had both wrapped arms around Lance’s waist, and Lance’s dad, Joseph, had one strong arm wrapped around Lance’s head. This was awkward for many reasons, not only because Lance had yet to let go of Keith’s hand.  “Keith, my love, don't look at me. I’m hideous. Avert your eyes!”

Keith, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny following Lance’s term of endearment, had been prepared to answer something along the lines of “I’m _trying_ , if you would just _unclench your hand._ ” when he was interrupted by a particularly loud and watery cry from Lance’s mom.

“Oh, _mijo_ , you haven’t—” She turned, gesturing wildly toward the back of the room, where Lance’s brother-in-law—who Keith and even Lance had yet to meet—stood, a toddler in his arms. Angie untangled her arm from the mess of McClains (effortlessly, Keith had observed jealously), and walked over, plucking the baby from her husband.

“This,” she began, biting her lip in a failed attempt to stop smiling. Her eyes were shining with tears. “Is Alejandro. But we call him Lance, just like his _tio_.”

Lance’s face, which had initially widened in a smile, eager to meet his new nephew, dropped in open-mouthed shock. The dramatic wailing had stopped, the silence interrupted only by the occasional sniffle, wide, identical grins on the face of everyone there. Lance had finally let go of Keith in favor of reaching shaking hands up towards his nephew, wordlessly asking Angie for permission before pulling the boy into his arms.

Lance’s nephew had blinked curiously at him, eyes big and a familiar blue, before reaching up to grab Lance’s nose. Lance choked on a laugh, tears spilling anew, reaching to grab baby Lance’s hand. “H-hey, kiddo,” he said softly. “Nice to meet you.” Keith watched as a smile, bigger than Keith had ever seen before, spread across Lance’s face. _One day_ , Keith remembers thinking, _one day it will stop surprising me, how much I love this boy.)_

“Uhhhh,” Keith had said, already inching backwards to find somewhere else to hide. “Hey Angie, how are...you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, if you’re not busy, I need to do my makeup and everyone’s too busy running around like chickens with their heads cut off to help me. Can you watch Junior for me?”

Baby Lance— _Junior_ , as he’d been dubbed, after Lance’s return from the dead made things really confusing—stared at Keith. Keith stared back.

“Um,” Keith said.

“Great!” Angie chirped. She moved forward, pushing Junior into Keith’s arms. “You be good for Uncle Keith, okay, baby?” she said, dropping a kiss on top of Junior’s head. Junior cried out happily, clapping his hands.

“Uncle Keith?” Keith said.

“Be back soon!” Angie said, already out the door.

“Right,” Keith said. “Okay. Uncle Keith.” He sat down at the kitchen table, Junior eyeing him curiously. “I mean,” he said, setting Junior on his lap and gesturing aimlessly, “I guess I kind of already...am...your uncle. Like, we’re married. But now it’s going to be...legal.” His brow furrowed at the baby, who mimicked his expression exactly. “Do you know what legal means?”

“Leegow,” Junior said solemnly.

“Sure,” Keith said. He ran the hand not holding the baby through his hair. “Uncle Keith, huh?”

Junior made an excited noise.

Keith smiled. Then, he reached back, pulling the small, battered notebook and pen he’d been avoiding thinking about for as long as possible out of his back pocket. “You want to help me humiliate myself in front of our family?” he asked, opening the notebook to a blank page. Junior smiled at him.

So now, standing in front of a truly remarkable amount of people, Keith takes a deep breath. He had let Junior scribble a few lines over his speech, but it’s still legible. He looks down at his shaking hands, and then up. Over Lance’s shoulder, Hunk gives Keith an encouraging smile and thumbs up (finally a “real” best man). Lance looks the happiest he’s ever been, healthy and rested and loved.

Keith talks about friendship, and how bad he was making friends growing up. He talks about loneliness, and how he thought closing himself off to others would protect him. He talks about being wrong. He talks about family, and how he grew up without one, and how much it means to him. He looks away from Lance to smile tearfully at Lance’s family in the front row. Junior, in his little suit, waves happily. Shiro is a solid, presence behind him, as always, and Pidge, Allura, and Coran give him warm smiles from their seats on “Keith’s” side of the aisle (or, well, Coran tries to, but he’s crying).

He talks about how Lance is the one who taught him what it was to be a good friend, to be part of a family. He thanks him, over and over, for helping him become the person he is, for loving him despite his rocky beginnings. He ends the speech with “and, uh, yeah.”

And then maybe Lance jumps the gun a little bit and kisses him then and there, in front of God and everybody. Lance’s older brother Marcos wolf whistles.

When Lance breaks away, he turns to the priest and smiles apologetically. “I would say I’m sorry, but we’re already married,” he explains. “Just like, space married.”

“Unfortunately, neither the US Government nor your mother acknowledge space marriage,” Keith says, still flustered. “So can we move on, please?”

They do. Now that the scariest part is over, the ceremony seems to go by quickly for Keith, and before long Lance’s older nephew Tony steps up to proudly hand them the rings, nestled on a ridiculous little pillow. The priest declares them married, officially, and before Keith can do anything Lance is dropping him in a dramatic dip, kissing him soundly. He gives Keith no time to freak about about it, though, pulling him up and grabbing Keith’s hand. He raises their joined hands above their hands like he’s declaring Keith the boxing heavyweight champion of the world.  Keith drops his face into the palm of his other hand.

“We’re legal!” he yells, and everyone laughs and cheers as they make their way back down the aisle. They poke and prod at each other the entire way down, unable to contain their smiles. As they go people pat them on the backs and squeeze their arms, like they're passing their well wishes through touch. Behind them, co-flower girls Pidge and Tanya, Lance’s niece, chuck flower petals at them.

(Pidge had originally objected to being a flower girl. She’s twenty-one, for Christ’s sake. She’s not even that short! She can drink! When will the jokes about being the baby of Voltron end? When she’s going into retirement? When her great-grandchildren are putting her in a home?

All Lance had to do to shut her up was explain the process of picking bridesmaids and groomsmen in a family as large as his, and does she want the responsibility of explaining to all of his sixteen female first cousins why she was chosen over them? Do you want to be the one to break the news to my sister, Pidge?)

After that they suffer through taking pictures, which would be awful for Keith if not for Lance.

(And if Keith’s being painfully honest, which seems to be the theme of the day, most things would be awful if not for Lance.)

They take countless pictures, in countless different combinations. They take pictures with Lance’s family, and with their space family. Hunk and Lance take a series of photos in increasingly romantic poses before Keith manages to steal Lance back.

Keith and Shiro take one picture, officially, standing stiffly next to each other and smiling at the camera. Unofficially, the photographer manages to capture them immediately after, when Shiro’s thrown an arm over Keith’s shoulders to bring him in and mess up his hair. Their smiles are wide, and real, and when Lance gives Shiro a framed copy a few weeks later Shiro may or may not tear up a bit. Those two pictures are the first family pictures Shiro and Keith have taken since before Shiro first disappeared.

The pictures of just Lance and Keith are taken as the sun starts to set, out on the beach away from the others. Lance has taken off his shoes and Keith has untucked his shirt. Keith is so, _so_ uncomfortable with the idea of public displays of affection in front of a guy he barely knows (one of Lance’s cousin’s boyfriends, or something. Keith comes to the realization that he is now related to every single person at this wedding), and _especially_ in front of a camera.

But within the first five minutes, Lance has tripped over his own goddamn feet and gone face first into the sand, and Keith is laughing and he doesn't stop. Not when he reaches down to help Lance up, and not when Lance pulls him down in the sand with him. Their wedding pictures are of them covered in sand and laughing, haloed in the glow of the sunset. Lance convinces Keith to take his shoes off, and they roll up their dress pants to wade into the ocean and kick water at each other. Their pictures aren't conventional, but they're definitely _Keith and Lance._ The exasperated photographer manages to get one picture, after the wind has thrown Keith’s hair entirely into his face and Lance has stopped laughing long enough to push it back. They're smiling at each other, and Lance has his hand up to Keith’s face. His shiny new ring glints in the late afternoon sun. It’s a good picture.

After that is, of course, the reception.

Not that Keith would ever, ever admit this to Lance, but he doesn’t remember most of their wedding reception. A combination of nervous relief, a long day, and an open bar rendering his memory to nothing but snapshots, tinted gold and blurry around the edges, like a dream. He remembers the taste of the food, flavor bursting over his tongue.

He remembers their first dance, nervous in front of so many people. He tried to move as close as possible to Lance, to hide. He stepped on Lance’s toes, and buried his nose in Lance’s shoulders, drinking in the sound of Lance’s laughter, loud in his ears.

He remembers dancing with Lance’s mom, and how she felt so small in his arms despite having the biggest personality of anyone he’d ever met, including her son. He remembers her eyes shining under the string lights that lit up the McClain family backyard. She thanked him, for protecting her son, for bringing him back to her. He hadn’t known what to say. Behind them, in front of them, all around them, Lance twirled Shiro around the dance floor (“The closest thing we have to Keith’s mom,” he had explained, before tugging Shiro unwillingly onto the dance floor. Shiro had turned so red Pidge documented it as a physical anomaly).

He remembers other things, smaller things. The Holts, all together and posing for a picture, Shiro smiling so hard behind the camera that you would think it was him having his picture taken.

Allura and Coran, putting away an unbelievable amount of food, having never tasted anything like it before, and dazzling anyone and everyone who entered their line of sight.

Hunk together with his moms, all of them tearing up at nearly every planned event at the wedding; the first dance, the cutting of the cake, Shiro’s speech, _Hunk’s_ speech, Lance dancing with his mom, Keith dancing with Lance’s mom.

He remembers light glinting off of his cufflinks, burnished sterling silver things that had previously belonged to Keith and Shiro’s father. Keith’s “something borrowed.”

He remembers Lance, smiling wide as Tanya draped a crown made of blue flowers atop his head, Lance’s “something blue.”

Lance dancing with his mother, so much taller than her that it was almost comical. Lance and his father, talking seriously at a table away from the majority of the party, both of them blinking away tears and hugging each other tightly. Lance and his niece and nephews, loudly laughing over the music. Lance looking at Keith like he can’t believe what he’s seeing is real. Lance grasping Keith’s hand under the table, smiling as Hunk and Shiro make their speeches. Lance’s hands on Keith’s shoulders, his hips, his neck. Lance warm against his side. Lance’s arms around his waist. Lance, Lance, Lance.

And Keith’s family, new and old, hugging them and congratulating them and pretending to gag every time Lance pulls Keith in to kiss his lips, his forehead, the knuckles of his left hand.

All things considered, their second wedding is pretty good.

 

 

**3.**

Their third wedding is...a surprise, to say the least.

Unfortunately, eradicating the Galra empire does not mean that Voltron’s job is done. It’s kind of a lifetime gig. Ride or die, til death do they part, forever and ever.

If you ask Lance, that was kind of a lot to ask a bunch of actual teenagers. But what does he know? He had been the one to fly them out in the first place.

In the end, they had only stayed on Earth for about a year before setting off again. Turns out evil doers don't exactly wait for heroes to finish their vacation before employing acts of terror. Who knew?

Luckily, this time they had adequately prepared for what would no doubt be a years long voyage into the unknown. They’d stocked up on more non-perishable food than seemed reasonable, and Mrs. Holt and Pidge had worked together to build the beginnings of an indoor garden on the castle. The food goo replicator would not have to be used for a long while, something that had nearly brought Hunk to tears when he realized.

Lance had returned to the castle with five suitcases, three filled with clothes and two with various skin and hair care products. Keith had bitched the entire time, bogged down with three of them as they crammed into the pod that would take them up to where the castle hovered in Earth’s orbit, but when the two of them retire from universe defending and Lance still has the smooth and beautiful skin of a man much younger, Lance knows Keith will thank him.

(Lance loves to think about that, to imagine how their lives will turn out. He knows Keith will still love him with gray hair and crow's feet, just like Lance knows that grumpy, wrinkly granddad Keith is going to be the cutest shit he’ll ever see.)

Keith had brought one (1) duffle bag of Earth things back onto the castle, and it was mostly full of weapons. Other than knives, Keith’s bag contained a few changes of clothes (all black, of course), an old watch that had belonged to his dad, the thick, cable-knit sweater Lance’s dad had knit him for Christmas that year (Bright green. Lance’s dad wasn’t about that “all black everything” life), and a holo-frame displaying his favorite picture taken at their Earth wedding.

(Lance had, of course, brought all of the pictures. He’d had them printed so he could put them up around the castle and in their room, as well as the pictures taken on other landmark days spent on Earth. He had pictures from when him and his family had been reunited, Lance looking skinny and space-pale next to his full, golden family, and he had pictures from all the family gatherings after that. Pictures of him and Keith, fishing on a family camping trip, getting a bit too competitive playing children’s party games at Tony and Tanya’s birthday, drunkenly smashing their faces together on New Years.

And, of course, he had pictures of Keith and only Keith. Keith laughing at him from the highest branches of a tree in Lance’s parents’ backyard, Keith napping on the old couch at Lance’s parents’ house with Junior sprawled across his chest, Keith sat on the floor in front of a Christmas tree in a green sweater, handing out presents.

There may actually be a disproportionate amount of pictures of Keith. So what? Lance likes pictures! His husband is hot!

The picture Keith had brought with him back to the castle, the one he later stuck to the console of the red lion, was one of the huge family photos from their wedding. Their photographer had to move pretty far away to get all of them in. He had yelled his instructions as loud as he possibly could, but the result was still a bit of a mess. Keith and Lance stood in the middle, with Lance’s family one one side and Team Voltron on the other.

No one was looking at the camera. Lance's brother Marcos had reached around their dad’s shoulders to mess up Lance’s hair, so in the picture Lance and his mother are yelling at him. Tony and Tanya had sneaked to the Voltron side of the picture and were posing dramatically with Pidge and Hunk.  Lance’s dad seemed to be mid-conversation with Coran. Everyone else in the picture was laughing, including Keith, who was doubled over, one arm around his waist.)

Other than that, the paladins had managed to pull together and bring aboard an insane amount of books, movies, videos games, and board games. And, of course, they’d worked out a way to keep in contact with their families back on Earth. Lance had promised to call home every week, space time zones be damned.

So this time around, space adventuring is stressful but nowhere near as stressful as it had been when their enemy was a centuries-old intergalactic empire. Most of the time they're hailed to help with disaster relief, or to mediate tension between warring countries or planets. Lance gets to attend a lot of galas. It’s a piece of cake compared to Zarkon.

He’s schmoozing with the locals when he gets the idea, following an ambassador around on a guided tour and learning all about the culture of Zephiltermalia. The Zephs are flying people, sort of. They’re more like flying squirrels than birds, advanced fallers. They have a thick membrane connecting their two sets of arms to their torsos, and one connecting their legs. Their light gray bodies are sleek and hairless, aerodynamic. Their cities are built on mountains, tiered like a Mayan temple, or like Universal Studios Hollywood.

They're pretty cool, but Lance is getting bored. The rest of the team are all free to laze around the Emperor's palace, eating weird, airy fruit and listening to the twinkling wind chimes that were present in every doorway, but lucky Lance gets to go play diplomat. The ambassador guiding him has a funny way of talking, low and quiet and dwelling longer than he should on the vowels. Lance is wondering if he’s experiencing a shitty form of hypnotism when the ambassador, Lev, brings him to a ledge.

They're at the highest point in the city, where the Zephs keep their courts and government buildings, and the air is thin enough that Lance is wishing he had brought his helmet.

“ _Thiiiiis_ ,” Lev says, voice like a yawn, “is where our people are joined in _marriaaaaage_.”

“Marriage?” Lance says, politely curious. “As in, this is where you perform the ceremony?”

Lev tilts his head questioningly at that. “Ceremony? _Weeeell_ , it is one of _sooorts_.” He puts two hands on his hips, one across his chest, and one under his chin. “It is _mooore_ of _aaaan_...act.”

“An act?”

Lev gestures to the ledge. “When two Zephs wish to marry, they launch from _heeere_.” Lance steps forward to peer over the edge. There is a straight chute down the entire mountain, ending abruptly where land becomes cliff and leading straight to the ocean. Below them, the city is a dazzling display of color and pattern, hundreds of kites used to determine wind speed and direction sway dreamlike above it. He can see the distant shapes of people flying, falling, all over the city, as well as the large, slow-moving gondolas carrying people up the mountain, suspended by wires. But no one flies directly in the path before him. It’s entire clear.

“ _Thiiiis_ way, the _entiiiire_ city may _witneeess_ their love,” Lev says. “Though in _reeecent_ generations, marriage has fallen out of _faaavor_. It is rare that Zephs _maaake_ the decision to wed. It is a beautiful, yet _aaantiquated_ tradition.”

Lance nods, already knowing this. The Zephs are mostly non-monogamous. It sounds so nice though, their wedding tradition. He looks down, trying to imagine a time when people lined up to do this, to leap over the edge and announce to everyone “Hey, look at us! We’re together and we’re wonderful!”

Lev looks as though he’s ready to push forward. He has better things to do than play tour guide, Lance knows, but Lance is fascinated. The idea pops up in his head, and he lacks the self control to stop himself from going through with it.

“Hey Lev,” Lance is saying, before his brain has even caught up with his mouth, “what were you saying earlier? About flight suits?”

 

***

 

Proposing again, on Zephiltermalia, goes like this.

Keith is lounging lazily on one of the Zephs’ many plush couches, absentmindedly reading something on his tablet, when Lance strides into the room looking windswept and carrying a pile of strange fabric.

“Keith?” he calls, looking around the wide, open room, “Oh, Keith! I was looking for you.”

“What did you do this time?”

Lance gasps, offended. “ _Nothing!_ I’ve been a good little diplomat, running all over the city and learning about—about _grain shortages_ and the two hundred children of the Emperor.”

“Then what do you want?” Keith says without looking at Lance, flopping over onto his stomach, idly scrolling through the tablet.

“I can’t believe this,” Lance says. “Only married six months and the honeymoon period is already over. What about your vows? What about to have and to hold, in sickness and in health? Where is the love?”

Keith still doesn't look up. He says, “Technically, we’ve been married for two years.”

“Not the _point_.”

Keith sighs, laying back so he can look up at Lance. He’s _comfy_ , dammit. “Really though, what do you need?”

“Marry me.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, lifting his left hand to wave it in Lance’s face. His ring shines in the bright sunlight of the room. “Are you having a stroke?” he asks.

“No, hear me out,” Lance says, and then dumps the pile of fabric on top of Keith. Keith sputters, sitting up. “We’re space married, right? And Earth married, definitely. But are we _Zephiltermalia married?_ No, we’re not.”

Keith pokes at the clothes Lance left on top of him, his eyes lighting up. “Lance, are these—?”

“ _Yes!”_ Lance yells excitedly. “And I know Shiro said no, but come on. We’re _twenty-five,_ can he really stop us? And the way to get married on this planet is fucking amazing! We have to do it.”

Keith picks up one of the flight suits, holding it up to his chest like a dress. He picks up one of the arms, pulling it out to the side and watching as the wing extends, ribbed with some sort of plastic, like a bat wing. The Zephs have been urging them to try the flight suits since they finished fighting the sea monster that led to Voltron answering their distress call in the first place, but Shiro had deemed it unsafe. Keith has been practically dying to do it for days now, always looking for the next adrenaline rush.

“It’s just,” Lance continues, “you’ll see. It’s so great. But we have to hurry. Come on, samurai, don't you want to marry me again? Please?”

Keith looks up at Lance, and he’s got that look in his eye. The sexy one. The one he tends to get before he does something amazing and terrifying. He clutches the flight suit to his chest. “I’m in.”

Lance throws his arms up in a cheer. Finally. He can’t wait.

 

***

 

When they get there, however, Lance starts to think he was maybe _too_ hasty in his remarriage plans.

“You know I just had an interesting thought, actually, fuck this,” Lance says, clutching at Keith’s hand so tight his knuckles turn white. They're both in the skintight flight suits with Lev at the top of the mountain.

“You’re the one who wanted to have an entire city ‘witness our love,’” Keith says. Lev had explained the process to Keith as they went up in a gondola, having already changed into their flight suits.

“I know, and it’s still great, but this is like...that moment, you know? Like when you’ve been waiting ages in line for a roller coaster but when the grumpy teen moves to escort you to your seat you’re like ‘wait, why am I doing this? This can’t be safe.’ But then it’s too late, and you’re being strapped in, and you know you’re going to die.” Lance turns to Keith, eyes pleading. “It’s not too late. We can tell the teen to fuck off.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “No, this is cool, and we’re already up here. We’re already strapped in.”

Lance groans, slapping the hand not crushing Keith’s over his eyes. “I married a madman,” he says, turning to Lev. “Explain how we should do this again?”

Lev doesn't hesitate. “ _Taaake_ a good, running jump, and _exteeend_ your arms as quickly as possible. The wind is good today, there _shooouldn’t_ be any issues.” He points to a ledge a good ways away from them. “I will launch from there, so I _maaaay_ be of assistance, should you need it.”

“We won’t need it,” Keith says confidently, before turning to Lance. He grabs Lance’s other hand. “Okay, you ready?”

Lance takes a deep breath, squeezing Keith’s hands. He drops his head, closing his eyes. He gives it a moment.

“No,” he says.

Keith throws his head back and laughs, untangling one of his hands from Lance’s to shove at Lance’s shoulder. “Come _on_ ,” he says. “We’ve got this. Lance, please, I _really_ want to jump off this cliff. What about your vows? What about till death do us part? Where is the love?” His voice is high and whiny, over exaggerated. Lance hates him.

(That’s a lie, Lance loves him. So—)

“I guess we have to jump off this cliff, then,” Lance sighs.

“Yes!” Keith cheers. He turns back to Lev. “Okay, we’re ready to go.”

“No wait,” Lance says. “First this.” He grabs Keith’s cheeks and pulls him in for a hard kiss, then pushes him away again. “I love you always. If I die jumping off cliffs to express our love don't let Pidge anywhere near any of my technology, tell Hunk I love him, take Shiro and Allura on a _relaxing_ vacation, and tell my mom I died doing something more heroic. Tell her I...exploded.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Keith laughs. He raises his hands to rest over Lance’s still grasping his cheeks. “And what about Coran?”

“He knows what to do,” Lance says ominously. “Oh, and one more thing.” He pulls Keith back in for another kiss. “I love you. I’m so scared. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Keith says easily, still smiling. “So can we go now?”

“I’m _building up to it!_ I love you. Sorry, I want my last words to be I love you. I love you.”

“Okay, okay, I love you too! Let’s go now!” Keith moves away, but doesn't let go of Lance’s hand. “When you’re ready, Lev!”

They turn to face the ledge as Lev starts the countdown, still holding hands. It’s probably not the best way to go about this, but Lance is going to cling to Keith as long as possible.  Keith is safe. Keith will protect him.

As Lev gets down to the last couple of numbers, Lance squeezes Keith’s hand, and Keith squeezes back, solid as always. And then they're running, and jumping, and Lance flails in the air for a split second, before the wind catches in his makeshift wings and he feels himself _lift_ and then _fall._

_“_ Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” he’s yelling, wobbling concernedly in the air. Keith is laughing, further down and moving faster than Lance, because _of_ _course he is_ , the bastard.

But Lance has been hanging around with Zephs like Lev for the last week, unlike Keith, who has spent his days lounging around the palace like a house cat. He can see Lev out of the corner of his eye, following beside them in case anything goes wrong.

So Lance takes a moment. He steadies himself and focuses on gliding. He watches the colors of the ground below him blur, and listens to his heartbeat, quick and loud in his ears. He watches Keith in front of him, a natural, twisting and swooping. On a normal day, he’d probably be flying circles around Lance. But this isn’t a normal day.

Lance takes a moment, then a deep breath, and then he...adjusts his positioning.

The noise Keith makes as Lance shoots passed him has Lance laughing out loud.

“You fucker!” Keith yells, instantly copying Lance’s technique and catching up.

“You snooze, you lose, my dear!”

“What happened to being afraid?” Keith’s at his side now, smiling over at Lance. Now they're swooping and spinning and diving around each other, caught in each other’s orbit like always. Lance and Keith, neck and neck. It’s taken a shorter amount of time than Lance had thought to get to the bottom of the mountain, and the ocean looms before them, blue and endless.

“You know me better than to assume I’d ever let fear hold me back,” Lance calls back, looking smug. “Danger is my middle name! Lance Alejandro “Danger” Espinosa Kogane-McClain.”

Keith barks out a laugh. “No, you’re right,” he says, performing some artful maneuver and brushing Lance’s hand with his. “Nothing holds you back.”

Then he smiles at Lance, wide and beautiful. Lance has never been able to look away from Keith when he does that, not back when he was spying jealously on Keith in class at the Garrison and not now, together for six years and married for two of them. The world beyond Keith is nothing but smears of color and light, but Keith is in sharp focus, and Lance feels like his breath has been stolen away with the wind.

It’s then that they crash into the ocean.

Lance makes it to the surface first, disoriented and coughing out saltwater. “Keith?” he calls, only just starting to worry. “ _Keith?”_

Then Keith comes up, coughing and laughing at the same time. They move together automatically, Keith’s arms winding around Lance’s neck, and Lance’s arms around Keith’s waist. Keith’s stupid barking laughter is contagious, and soon Lance is laughing with him.

Lance drops his forehead to Keith’s, tightens his arms around Keith’s waist because he knows Keith isn’t that strong of a swimmer. “So?” he asks expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

“Let’s do it again,” Keith says breathlessly. “Here and on every planet we come across. Let’s get married on every planet we can.”

“Are you joking?” Lance asks, incredulous. “You really want to get married to me on every planet we land on?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Keith says, voice high pitched and shaky with residual adrenaline. “Yes. Every planet. If it feels like this every time, let’s get married ten, twenty, a _hundred_ times.” He grabs the back of Lance’s head and kisses him hard, then pulls back to look at Lance. His eyes are shining and his hair is plastered messily to his face. His cheeks are still red from the wind, and he looks so happy he’s glowing with it. “Let’s break records. I want the universe to see us and be jealous.”

Lance blinks once, bewildered, and then bursts out laughing. “Jesus, Keith, you never do anything halfway,” he says. He leans forward to kiss Keith’s forehead. “But sure, okay, let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

They stay there, giggling and treading water, until they see Lev calling for them from land. Then they’re swimming, already questioning Lev for other places in the city to launch from.

 

 

**4.**

“I regret everything!” Keith yells, in the middle of their ninth wedding. Their last few have been great. They’ve scaled the quartz cliffs of Thrikor and bathed in the magic mists of the Qarxum quadrant. They’ve run, barefoot and shrieking, over the sacred crystal coals of Pihm, and they’ve nearly killed each other attempting to keep the mystic flame of their love alive on the windiest day Kranstul had experienced in thirty-five deca-phoebs. They’ve had their fair share of challenges, sure, but Keith’s starting to think they’ve maybe bit off more than they can chew with the bonding ritual of Blerr.

He twists, pulling away from the pole at his back and tugging at the thick rope that binds his wrists together behind it. “This was a stupid idea and you were stupid for going along with it.”

“Don’t worry, babe! I got this!” Lance calls from his spot on a platform about fifty feet away. Keith can barely hear him.

They're separated by a wide, dark lake. Keith is standing on something that looks like a giant lilypad, covered in something slimy and tar-like that sticks to his boots when he lifts his feet. The water around him is murky and oddly still. There are other lilypads interspersed between him and Lance, swaying only slightly. Keith bounces on his toes a little, feeling the lilypad under him wobble. They’ll be difficult to jump to and from. Shit.

“We’re fucking idiots,” Keith says sadly. Above him, on the balcony reserved for those who wish to witness the marriage, Pidge makes a resigned, but affirming noise, and Hunk bursts out laughing.

“This is what you get for being extra,” Pidge says, peering over the edge and down at Keith.

“Not helpful,” Keith says. He watches Lance fiddle with his bayard, changing it through several different forms before settling on its original one, the rifle light and familiar in his hands. There’s the sound of someone else laughing, and then Shiro is leaning over the balcony, grinning down at Keith.

“He’ll be fine, Lance can handle himself. Anyway, almost everyone on this planet does this at some point in their life, right? It can’t be that dangerous.”

He goes on, but Keith has stopped listening. Beneath him, the lilypad is trembling, moving back and forth. The water around Keith lifts and falls, rolling over his boots. He leans as far forward as physically possible, eyes laser-focused on the water.

He stays still a moment, waiting. His breath is loud in his ears, the rest of the world around him reduced to white noise. There’s a shift, and there it is. Something moves under the water. Something _big_.

“Uh,” Keith says.

“You know, this ceremony is pretty fucked up,” Pidge is saying. “Like, do they breed these things specifically for this purpose? Like hey, cool, we brought you into this world. Fight to the death for our traditions.”

“Guys,” Keith says.

“I mean, do they eat it?” Hunk replies. “Because that would make more sense, like they kill it for the ceremony but it’s okay because they use its bones to make tools or whatever.”

“Guys!” Keith yells.

They shut up. The dark shape beneath Keith stills. Then, slowly, dark tentacles begin to rise up from the depths all around him, dripping slime.

“Holy fuck,” Pidge says.

Underneath Keith, the lilypad bucks, shoving him forward and sending a wave of water up and over his legs. The world around him grows darker, something huge looming and rising to block out the sun. Keith watches its shadow creep over the lilypad, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Hunk says.

Keith looks up. Lance is still on the platform, but he’s looking a lot less confident. His bayard dangles at his side as he gapes, eyes huge even at a distance.

“Lance,” Keith calls, voice low. “Lance McClain, I swear to god, if you die I am going to kill you.”

The thing behind Keith exhales a deep breath, warm air ruffling Keith’s hair.

“No problem, boyo,” Lance says, looking in Keith’s direction but not at Keith. He lifts a hand in a thumbs up. “I, uh, I got this. Don’t worry about it. Love you.”

“I love you too,” Keith calls back, but Lance has already lifted his bayard and taken a shot.

The shot sails over Keith’s head and, because it’s Lance, lands. The air is filled with a deafening roar. Before Keith can register anything else, the thing is back in the water, sending a wave over Keith’s head. The lilypad under him bucks again and he stumbles. He watches as the water rolls before him, a lump of a wave moving remarkably fast and straight for Lance.

Keith calls Lance’s name desperately, just as the thing crashes into Lance’s platform.

Lance has already activated his jetpacks, flying up and forwards, shooting rapidly as he goes. He lands on a lilypad, slipping a little in the slime, and Keith sees for the first time what Lance is up against.

The thing is like a large, black frog, if frogs were the size of dinosaurs and also terrifying. Its large mouth opens wide as it roars, red eyes wide and unseeing. It reaches forward, dragging itself onto a lilypad with dark, spindly arms. Thick mucus slides off its body and sloughs onto the lilypads around it, and Keith watches as they shrivel and burn to nothing.

“Holy fuck,” Shiro says.

There’s a second where it feels as though time is standing still, and then everyone is shouting.

“How the _fuck_ is he supposed to kill that?” Pidge yells. “We don’t even know how big it is! I would have trouble fighting that in _Green!_ ”

“He’s going to die, oh my god. He’s going to die. What do we do? Guys! What do we do?!” Hunk cries.

“There’s no way,” Shiro is saying. “There’s no way every person on this planet fights these things. There has to be a mistake. We need to—”

“This is a planet of _monsters!”_ Hunk is yelling. “He’s going to—”

“ _Stop_ saying my husband is going to die!” Keith yells, unable to take his eyes off of Lance. Lance is ignoring them, focus entirely on the monster before him. Keith watches as he shoots away a few creeping tentacles before activating his jetpacks again and moving to a different lilypad. He shakes his bayard hard, and it changes forms. A bigger gun.

They’ve been doing this a long time, Keith knows this. He knows Lance can hold his own in a fight. But that doesn’t stop his hands from itching for a weapon, his arms from wrenching around the pole at his back, trying to get to Lance. His thoughts are frantic, eyes roaming the creature for a weak spot. But it’s hard to see detail in its inky black body, and Lance is running out of time.

Lance shakes his bayard again, and it’s the biggest gun in his arsenal, but even Hunk’s bayard would have a hard time taking this thing out. He hops back a few lilypads. Lance is not far from Keith now, and Keith can hear him, speaking over the sound of his gun.

“ _Shit_ ,” he’s saying, adjusting his aim. “Shit, shit, shit. _Fuck_. Shit.”

“Lance!” Keith calls, leaning forward. “Aim for—”

Lance pushes a leg back, steadying himself, and unloads a barrage of shots at the thing’s elbow, as though reading Keith’s mind. The joint goes to pieces and the thing screeches, falling forward and slamming into the water. Lance lets out a triumphant laugh, pumping a fist in the air.

“Hell yeah, Lance!” Hunk cheers. Lance turns slightly, aiming a quick finger gun and a smile at Hunk.

Then, so quickly Keith almost doesn’t catch it, a tentacle rises from below and slams into Lance, sending him crashing into the water.

“ _Lance!”_ Keith yells, and hears it echoed three-fold behind him.

Lance doesn’t come up.

He hadn’t wanted to wear his full armor. They had argued about it before the ceremony, when they were still hammering out the details. He was enjoying the sunshine, he wanted to look like a dashing hero when he saved Keith from the sea monster, he was afraid it would drag him down in the water. He’d thrown out so many excuses, each one more ridiculous than the last. In the end, they managed to convince him of everything but the helmet. They should have tried harder.

“ _Lance!”_ Keith is still calling. He’s kicking at the pole, trying to dislodge it from the lily pad. “Lance! _Jesus Christ—_ Lance!”

“Can he survive in the water if the creature is toxic?” Pidge is saying, voice frantic. “Is the water safe? How long can he stay under?”

Hunk is busy attempting to stop Shiro from diving in after Lance. “Shiro! _Shiro!_ We don’t know if it’s safe—if the water isn’t polluted—”

“He’s _not wearing his helmet,”_ Shiro says, voice hard. “We need to—”

He’s interrupted by a blaster shot, coming up from the deep. And then another, and another. Then, Lance comes bursting up, lifted by a tentacle wrapped around his waist.

“I’m okay!” he coughs, before promptly shooting the tentacle and dropping back underwater.

Pidge collapses against the wall up above, one hand over her eyes. “He’s such a dumbass,” she says.

“Can _someone_ please help me figure out how to get off of this thing?” Keith yells, tugging hard at the rope around his wrists. It’s starting to dig into his skin, but he doesn’t care. He shimmies around the pole to face his friends. “I need to help him!”

Shots are coming out of the water more rapidly now, seemingly at random, but Keith knows that’s not how Lance works. Lance is precise, always three steps ahead of his opponent. He doesn’t take shots he knows he will miss.

That, however, is when he’s not drowning.

“Isn’t that against the rules, though?” Hunk says nervously. “Will we get in trouble?”

“Who _cares?”_ Keith growls. “Just get me a _fucking knife.”_

“Wow okay,” Pidge says. “You don’t need to be all _Keith_ about it.” Then she pulls out Keith’s luxite blade.

“ _Why do you have that?_ ” Keith yells.

“I wanted to check it out. You get separation anxiety every time it’s more than a foot away from you so this was my only chance.”

“Pidge, what the fuck? It’s an heirloom!”

“Calm down,” she says. She closes one eye and stretches a hand forward, fingers in an L-shape. “I’m going to throw this down, so don’t move.”

“Hey, wait, maybe we should—” Shiro is saying, inching towards Pidge with his hands out.

“This is a terrible idea,” Hunk says.

Keith closes his eyes, clenching his fists. She might throw the knife straight into his gut but, he reasons, at least then he’ll have a knife.

Before Pidge can do anything of the sort, there’s a loud, screeching sound from behind Keith, and he’s shuffling back around to see what’s going on.

The creature has resurfaced. Lance stands perched atop its head, tentacles wrapped around both wrists like reins. He shoots, and then shoots again, and again, and again directly into the thing’s head.

He coughs, spitting water all over the thing’s head. “ _Yeehaw, motherfucker!”_ he yells, voice hoarse. “Take that, you frog bastard!”

The thing scrambles, trying to grab at Lance with its good arm, but Lance kicks it away. Tentacles shoot up at random, and Lance bats them away with his gun. He’s insulting the thing the entire time, but his eyes are hard and determined. Keith feels himself stop struggling, leaning back and watching him do his thing.

Eventually, the monster drops forward, throwing Lance onto Keith’s lilypad. A wave crashes over Keith as it slinks quickly back beneath the water to lick its wounds. Lance, laying on the lilypad now, turns over onto his back, spread eagle. He takes several deep breaths, and looks back at Keith, eyes bright.

“I told you,” he says, panting, “that I got this.”

Then, he passes out.

Horns sound, and the ceremony is complete.

 

***

 

When Coran sees Lance’s half-melted armor, he nearly cries.

“ _Ten thousand years_ ,” he says. “This armor was made over ten thousand years ago, and you melted it. _For fun_.”

“To be fair, it wasn’t actually very fun,” Lance says. He has a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a generous amount of burn salve on the side of his face, where the toxic slime had done the most damage.

“The Blerf was actually very impressed with Lance and Keith’s willingness to take part in the planet’s traditions,” Allura says, eyes never leaving her tablet. “They were very eager to ally with us after the ceremony.”

“Well, I’m glad _something_ good came of it,” Keith says. His hair is still damp from the lake water, and his clothes are drying in a stiff and uncomfortable way, but he had refused to take a shower until Lance was looked over. “Because, if you ask me, this one definitely wasn’t worth it.”

“I think you’re still just mad that they said you had to be the one rescued,” Lance says petulantly.

Keith sighs. “Whatever you say, Lance,” he says. “Allura, is there any chance we can skip tonight's banquet? It’s been a long day.”

“I think you two have done quite enough to win the hearts of the people,” she says, looking up at them with a smile. “The coalition thanks you for your help in diplomatic relations.”

And with that, Allura says her goodbyes, herding a distraught Coran out of the medbay. Keith lets out a long breath, slumping down onto the examination table next to Lance.

“I think maybe we should cool it on the wedding thing,” Keith says, after a moment. “This was...a lot.”

He expects Lance to argue, or accuse him of being jealous again, but Lance just sighs. He drops against Keith’s side, temple at Keith’s collarbone, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says softly. He pulls the blanket tighter around him. “It was kind of a dumb idea anyway.”

Keith turns to press his face into Lance’s hair, breathing in the comforting smell of it. He drops an arm across Lance’s shoulders and pulls him closer. _This_ is where Keith is at his best, where he’s the most secure.

“It wasn’t dumb,” Keith says, voice just as soft. “I was just really worried. This one wasn’t fun.”

“It was kinda fun.”

“It was _not._ ”

“It was!” Lance says, leaning away. “It was fun in an ‘ _Oh my god I’m gonna die_ ’ kind of way.”

“There is no such thing,” Keith scoffs.

“Uh, yeah. There is. It was like, an adrenaline rush.”

“Adrenaline rushes aren’t fun if you’re actually in danger of dying.”

“Yeah, okay, I believe you, Mister I-Like-to-Launch-Myself-Into-Space-and-Hope-My-Lion-Catches-Me.”

“Well, she always does, doesn’t she? And I never find that _fun._ ”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever. It wasn't fun for _me,_ okay?” Keith says, crossing his arms and leaning away. “Definitely the worst wedding we’ve had so far.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll give you that,” Lance says. He leans back on his arms. “Hey, but did you see me surfing on its head, though?”

Keith is still looking away, but he snorts, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess that was pretty cool. What was it you said, again?”

Lance barks out a half-laugh. “ _Yeehaw, motherfucker._ ”

Keith tries and fails to hold in his laugh at that. “Only you,” he says, shaking his head. He turns back to look at Lance. He reminds himself that Lance is there, smiling at him, and he’s okay.

Lance reaches forward and makes grabby hands for Keith’s, lacing their fingers together when Keith obliges. “I do think we should maybe chill with the weddings for a bit,” Lance says. “I was talking to my mom and we came to the conclusion that we’ve kind of been...stalling. Sort of.”

“Stalling what?” Keith asks, brow furrowing.

“Like, you know,” Lance says vaguely. He waves the hand not in Keith’s around in a little twirl. “Like we keep reliving the wedding part, instead of moving forward to, you know, the other stuff.”

“What other stuff? We’ve been basically married for like, five years already.”

“My dear, we have been an old, grumpy couple since before we were even dating,” Lance says. “I’m talking about, you know. The next part.”

Keith’s frown deepens. “What is the next part?” he asks, and his voice goes high pitched in that way it always does when he’s confused.

“You know,” Lance says again, rolling his eyes. “ _First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes…_ ”

He gives Keith suggestive eyes, waggling his eyebrows.

“Then comes what? I’ve never heard of this,” Keith says, defensive.

Lance groans. “Look, haven’t you ever thought of, like. How nice it would be? To build something together, to spread our love further?”

“I thought we were doing that,” Keith says, “when we got _married._ ”

“No, you know, not just each other!” Lance says, gesturing wildly. “Like something else small and cute that we can love and guide and build a life with!”

Keith crosses his arms, his eyebrows nearly meeting in the crease above his nose. Then his face clears. “What, like a cat?”

Lance falls backward on the table, hands over his face. He groans for a long time. “Yes, Keith,” he says when he’s done, voice muffled under his hands. “Like a cat.”

“I think I’d like a cat,” Keith says, now that he’s thinking about it.

Lance heaves a sigh, chest moving up and down. “Okay, Keith,” he says. “We can get a cat.”

 

 

**5.**

Their tenth and last wedding is not under the best circumstances.

The ground below them shakes. Once, twice, three times. Keith counts the explosions like seconds after thunder, waiting for lightning to strike. Dust falls from the ceiling and down onto their heads. Keith moves to hover over Lance on the ground, a half-assed attempt to protect him.

Lance coughs, and slimy blood bursts out and over his bottom lip. He turns his face into Keith’s lap, keening. Keith shushes him gently, reaching down to wipe it away.

The Hydox doctor makes a worried sound, their tail raising to wipe at their brow. They have two hands holding Lance down at the hips, two rummaging through a medkit, and two buried in Lance’s stomach.

“There is...debris,” the doctor says. It’s hard to parse through their thick accent. The universal translators had crapped out when the power went, so they're muddying through communicating in Galran, the galaxy’s most widespread language. “In his organs. Sharp.”

“Shrapnel,” Keith says, nodding. He’d been in Red when the news reached him, working with the others to push back at the Syrdox army that was attempting to destroy the Hydox capital city. Lance had landed Blue in the town square, and had been helping the evacuation effort.

The Hydox were a peaceful people. They were a bit too...intense in their spirituality for Keith’s taste, but they’ve been a good friend and ally to Voltron. This is why, when the castle received their distress signal, the team hadn’t hesitated to provide assistance, even though the ship was in the midst of important repairs.

Keith can see the castle now, through the window of the dilapidated building they’d dragged Lance into. It’s standing tall and proud in the middle distance, shining amidst the black smoke of the burning city. Coran had had to make an emergency landing on the outskirts of town, the ship’s crystal having completely lost power.

Every so often, Keith can see the bright light of the lions’ lasers cut through the smoke, illuminating the giant powerful shape of them in the clouds. They could probably use his help, down two lions and one Voltron, but none of them had protested when Keith had left the battle, flying so fast and landing so hard that Red had left deep trenches in the road.

Lance whimpers, and Keith turns his eyes back to him, pushing Lance’s sweaty bangs off of his forehead. Lance opens his eyes and looks up at Keith, face sticky with tears.

“I’m here,” Keith says instantly. He drops down to press a kiss to Lance’s forehead. “I’m still right here.”

Lance’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Never doubted you, babe,” he says. His voice is so weak, Keith has to lean forward to hear over the sound of bombs and blaster fire outside. “This sucks,” he says.

For some reason, that’s the thing that starts to eat away at Keith’s composure. “Yeah,” he chokes out, blinking hard. “It really fucking sucks.”

Lance weakly reaches up, making grabby hands, and Keith’s hand is in his before he even registers moving. Lance coughs again, making more pained noises, and Keith scrambles to comfort him. He’s never been the comforting one. He’s not usually one to offer hugs or platitudes or strengthening hands on shoulders. He’s not the best with words. He’s doing his best for Lance.

The Hydox makes frustrated noises as Lance grows paler, running hands across their face and through their wiry hair and over their scaly legs. “I don’t...We have no scanners,” they explain. “I have stopped his bleeding, but I do not know your species. I cannot help him.”

Keith grits his teeth, and does his best to check his temper. He wants to lash out, to demand a better doctor, to kill every Syrdox soldier who bothered to drag them into this unfamiliar war. He wants to reach up and rip a miracle from the sky, to tear at the fabric of existence until he found something to help Lance. But it’s not the Hydox’ fault, and in Keith’s experience miracles are hard if not impossible to come by.

The Hydox weren’t the most technologically advanced species, but they had enough to rely on bio-scanners and such to get by. Team Voltron had gifted them with a cryopod, on one of their diplomatic visits. It had been the pride of the city’s hospital, the one currently lying in ruins a block away from where they are now. The hospital that Lance had been in, when the bombs dropped.

Before this, Hydoxia had been one of the most beautiful cities Keith had ever seen, and at this point in his life he’s seen a lot of them. Their kind held faith in the energizing crystals that were prevalent in their oceans, and every building twinkled with elaborate mosaics in bright colors. Lance loved it. He spent every minute of their first visit there oohing and awing over the artwork, the architecture, the fashions. Keith got used to gently guiding him through crowds and around obstacles while he took everything in.

There’s nothing of that, now. Everything is dusted with ash, pale grey in the dim sunlight. Keith thinks, nonsensically, that it’s as though Lance is taking all of the color with him.

“It’s okay,” Lance says, smiling weakly at the nervous doctor. “You did just fine. Thank you.”

The doctor wrings all six of their hands, but a sort of determination comes over their face. “No, I will find you help,” they say, standing. “The universe cannot survive without Voltron. I will be back.”

They scurry out, and Keith makes an angry, worried noise. He reaches over to grab at his helmet. He shoves it over his head and activates the comms. He is instantly bombarded with the sounds of the battle around him.

“Coran,” he says.

“Keith?” Hunk says, voice wavering and high pitched with worry. “Are you with Lance? How is he? Is he going to be okay?”

Keith ignores him. “Coran, what’s your status? Are you almost here? We need you here.”

“I’m afraid not, my boy,” Coran says, out of breath. The sound of gunfire can be heard over his comm. “I’m on my way, but the Syrdox certainly aren’t making it easy. I’m still across the city from your location.”

“What’s going on?” Shiro asks.

“What happened to Lance?” Pidge says.

“Please, Keith. Tell us what has happened,” Allura pleads.

Keith shuts his eyes, tugging the helmet off roughly. He’s not being fair to his team, he knows that. They all love Lance just as much as he does.

But when he looks down at Lance in his lap, bloody and battered, he thinks that there’s no way that that's the case. Keith is selfish, and his entire life is lying in his lap, dying. He can’t imagine that anyone else in the entire galaxy is capable of feeling the pain he’s feeling in this moment.

“How are the others?” Lance asks. “Are they doing okay without us?”

“They’ll be fine,” Keith says shortly. “Just..focus on staying awake for me, okay? We’ll find you a different doctor.”

“Don’t know if I’m going to be able to do that, Samurai,” Lance says, voice slurring just a little. “The doctor’s got me on the good stuff.”

“I know,” Keith says, running his fingers through Lance’s hair. “I know, but please? For me?”

“Okay, okay,” Lance says, and he even manages to sound mildly annoyed. There’s a moment of silence, and then, “You know, I didn’t mean a cat.”

Keith looks down at him incredulously. “What?”

“Back a hundred years ago, when we decided to get a cat. I didn’t want a cat.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith asks. “You didn’t want Garlic Knot?”

“No, I love Garlic Knot. He’s my beautiful fluffy boy,” Lance says. He turns his head toward the window. “I hope he’s okay at the castle,” he says. Keith laughs weakly.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Keith says. “He’s probably hanging out with Kaltenecker.”

“What if he’s scared?”

“He’s not,” Keith says. “And if...if he is, then later on we’ll just have to cuddle him an extra amount.”

Lance hums, still looking out the window. His eyelids start to droop, and Keith panics.

“So what did you mean?” he asks, patting gently at Lance’s cheek. “If you didn’t mean a cat?”

“Oh,” Lance says, sounding sleepy. “I wanted a baby.”

Keith’s stomach drops.

“A...a baby?” he says, voice awed.

“Yeah,” Lance says casually. “I’ve always wanted a big family, you know? But I realized after that that I didn’t actually know whether you did.” He grins up at Keith, teeth bloody. “I don’t know why, but I was scared to ask.”

“You shouldn’t have been,” Keith says, though his mind is still reeling. “You shouldn’t ever be scared to talk to me.”

Lance pouts up at him. “I know _that,”_ he says. “That didn’t stop me, though. I just kept thinking about it. A little baby who will call you daddy and me papa, or vice versa, who we can love and protect and grow with.” He waves a hand vaguely, before letting it fall hard to the ground. “I wanted it, but I wasn’t sure if you did.”

“I’ve...never thought about it before,” Keith says, because he hasn’t. “For a while I didn’t actually think I’d live long enough.”

“Wow, emo,” Lance says.

“Shut up,” Keith says. He’s thinking about it now. Thinking of a little kid running through the castle halls, of how happy Lance is with his nieces and nephews. He thinks of Lance the first time he met Junior, and of the wonder in his expression. He thinks of Junior, sitting in his lap and scribbling all over Keith’s wedding vows. He thinks of taking that feeling, the love and excitement and happiness he feels with Lance, and giving it to someone else, making someone’s life better. He thinks of a kid out in the world who they can love and take care of, the way Keith wasn't as a child.

“What if I screw it up?” he asks after a moment.

“We won’t,” Lance says, confidently. “Or...we wouldn’t. Probably. Don’t call our hypothetical child ‘it.’”

“We would have to make a lot of security upgrades on the castle.”

“I’m sure Hunk and Pidge would love that.”

They’re quiet, then, listening to the sounds of the waging battle outside.

“We could teach them to fly,” Keith says, voice soft.

“Yeah,” Lance says, wistfully. “Yeah we could.”

Then, he closes his eyes.

“Lance?” Keith says, patting at Lance’s face. “Lance, wake up. Lance? _Lance!”_

He’s not waking up. His skin is a pale and ashy gray, and in the dim light his blood is black. Keith sets him down gently and moves to his side, hands shaking and hovering above him.

He calls for help, as loud as he can until it feels like he’s choking. He scrambles to free his hands from his armor and tries desperately to feel for a pulse. His heart is pounding in his chest, so loud in his ears that he’s afraid he won’t be able to tell Lance’s from his own. There’s a static roar building in his brain that he thinks might be Red. Or maybe it’s Blue.

He talks to Lance, pleading and praying and insulting. “Lance, you stupid fuck, you asshole. I _need_ you. I need you, so you need to wake up. You told me you wanted your last words to be ‘I love you.’ But guess what? They weren’t. So you need to wake up. Fuck, _please_ wake up.”

The Hydox doctor bursts back into the room then, panting. They drop to their knees beside Lance and start doing...something. Keith can’t comprehend anything. It feels as though his thoughts are dropping out of his head as soon as they start to take form. He grasps for Lance’s hand, and nearly drops it when he feels how cold it is.

“He’s alive,” the doctor says, and Keith slumps. “But he is weak, we don’t have much time.” They’re looking up and at someone behind Keith.

A Hydox kneels down next to where Keith sits, and Keith realizes it’s one of their weird crystal priests.

The priest places one hand on Keith’s shoulder and another two on top of where both of Keith’s hands are clasped around one of Lance’s. Keith jerks back.

“What is this?” Keith demands. “Some kind of...some kind of Last Rites, thing? I thought you were getting _another doctor_ —”

“Red paladin,” the priest interrupts. “Please, listen to me. This man, he is your love?”

Keith’s love. Keith loves a lot of things. He loves collecting knives, and the feeling he gets when he pushes the red lion to fly as fast as she can. He loves his team, and the Alteans that keep them in check. He loves a little cat named Garlic Knot, and an old cow named Kaltenecker. He has a large group of people that he loves, waiting for him back on Earth, and he loves Lance.

Keith loves a lot of things, but the priest referred to Lance as _Keith’s_ love, like a noun, like a physical thing. And it’s most likely an error in his translation, but Keith is realizing that, yeah, Lance is his love. More than being his partner, Lance is like a love conduit. He makes Keith’s life better just by being in it. He makes any challenge feel easy. He makes Keith feel strong even at his weakest. He takes all the good and happiness that Keith feels and amplifies it, strengthens it. The longer he lays there, unresponsive, the more Keith can feel the love leave him, leaking out of his eyes with his tears. Keith nods at the priest, unable to put this feeling into words.

The priest instantly begins to wrap a chain interspersed with crystals around Lance and Keith’s joined hands. “We have a...ritual,” the doctor says. “A bonding ritual. It has to do with sharing one’s quintessence. It is permanent and…” They look down at Lance. “In his state, it will be painful. But it will save him.”

Keith doesn’t hesitate after that. “Do it,” he says. “I don’t care about pain. Do it now.”

The doctor nods, and steps away. The priest has started humming, deep in their chest, and the crystals start to glow.

Keith has been intimately acquainted with magic over the years, living with two Alteans and flying around in a psychic robot, but the hairs on the back of his neck rise and the tips of his fingers begin to tingle. There’s a pulling sensation at his solar plexus, drawing him forward and closer—always closer—to Lance.

“Can I talk?” Keith asks quietly, looking at the doctor. The doctor nods, and Keith turns his attention to Lance.

“Lance,” he says, voice cracking. “Looks like we’re getting married again. What number is this, nine? Ten?”

Lance doesn’t answer, and his face is starting to look blurry around the edges. Keith leans forward even further, hands still up and in front of the priest. “I love you,” he says. “I’ll say it a million times. I love you so much. Just come back to me.”

He’s feeling weaker, and the pulling sensation has started to burn, like the priest is sucking Keith’s heart out with the intention of giving it to Lance. And, he thinks, if that’s the case: good. It was Lance’s anyway.

Keith’s breathing is becoming shallower, his head pounding with lack of air. He heaves, still hovered over Lance. He doesn't know how this works, or if it will work, but he’s wishing harder than he ever has before. He’s laying all of his hope out and praying that it’s enough.

The priests humming gets louder and louder, until it’s all Keith can comprehend, vibrating around and through him. He presses his forehead against Lance’s chest. It’s unbearable, the pain and the noise, but the stillness beneath him is worse, so Keith grits his teeth and endures.

The sound reaches a fever pitch, and Keith feels a scream build in his throat, pulled from his core. And then, all of the sudden, there’s a _pop_ , and it’s done.

He takes huge, gasping breaths, sitting up as far as his weakened body will allow. Below him, he watches as Lance inhales, eyes moving beneath his eyelids, nose scrunching. His lashes flutter, and then his eyes open. Keith let’s out a sigh, shoulders slumping.

_There_ it is, finally. Color.

 

 

**+1**

They name her Andrea, because Lance thinks it's pretty, and Keith would have named her Knife Girl or something.

(“I would not,” Keith had said, when Lance told Hunk that. “I would have picked a real name, but you suggested Andrea and I liked it.”

“Yeah right,” Lance had replied, passing Andrea over so Keith could start the process of burping her. “You would have named her _Javelin,_ or _Katana_ , or...or _Gun_. Something like that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Keith had said. “But actually, now that I’m thinking about it... _Katana—_ ”)

They had travelled around a bit, trying to figure out where the best place to adopt would be. It took them a while after the battle at Hydox to make a decision, partly because Lance didn’t want them to have made such a big life change based on a deathbed confession (despite Keith assuring him over and over that, no, he hadn’t just agreed because Lance was dying. He wanted this, it just took him a while to figure it out), and partly because there are so many kids on so many planets who need help that they couldn’t possibly choose. They had even spent a while on Earth, reading up on the adoption process and spending time with the many babies in Lance’s family, just to get the hang of things.

In the end, the decision had made itself. The Galra were, unfairly but not unsurprisingly, not the most popular race out there, despite the empire having fallen years ago. It didn’t help that they no longer had a home planet. There were a few Galra colonies, but for the most part the species was dispersed throughout most of the known universe.

The Galran outpost on Tuantu was one of these, and it was not in the best condition.

The team had been alerted to the colony by the Blade of Marmora, who had started dealing less in espionage and more in societal reconstruction. There were rumors that the Galra on Tuantu had succumbed to some form of plague, one that only affected Galra, and while the Tuns weren’t actively wishing for the deaths of their Galra citizens, they weren’t exactly going out of their way to help them either.

In the end it had been Lance who had taken the mission, unwilling to expose Keith or any of the Blades to the Galra-specific disease. He went alone, the blue lion loaded down with medicine and other necessary supplies, and by all accounts it should have been easy.

It hadn’t been. There were so many people, and they were all sick, but most if not all were unwilling to accept the help of a paladin of Voltron. Lance talked himself blue trying to convince them, but Zarkon’s influence was still strong years after his death, and in the end all he was able to do was help set up a small clinic out of the home of the only Galra willing to accept the assistance.

Lux wasn’t a doctor, but he had apparently been a medic back in the days of the empire. He took Lance’s supplies and opened his doors to anyone willing to accept help. He was stoic, and unnecessarily gruff with Lance, but he obviously cared about helping people, and that was all Lance needed.

On the last day of Lance’s long, uncomfortable stay, he walked through Lux’ kitchen door to the sound of crying.

“Um?” Lance had said, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Lux clutching at a bawling baby, the fingers of one hand pressed against the bridge of his nose.

“Blue paladin,” he sighed, turning weary eyes onto Lance. Every day of Lance’s stay, Lux looked worse, and Lance silently prayed he wasn’t getting whatever it was that had taken over the colony. “You have not come at the best time.”

“I see that,” Lance said, smiling as Lux exasperatedly rocked the baby in his arms, a poor attempt at soothing it. “You need any help?” Lance asked.

Lux considered him for a moment, before visibly resigning himself to Lance’s presence. “Her mother is dead,” he said bluntly. “She came to me too late, and now there is no one to take care of the little one.”

Lance approached Lux carefully, eyes on the baby. “There is no other family?” he asked, reaching a hand to gently tug at the blanket hiding the baby from view.

“No,” Lux said. “Not anymore. She is the last.”

Lance nodded, blinking against the stinging of his eyes. Her entire family: gone. The baby in Lux’s arms twisted, tiny purple arms punching at the air, and turned her big yellow eyes towards Lance.

They stared at each other for a moment, and the blanket fell further away from her face, exposing the biggest, fluffiest ears Lance had ever seen on a Galra.

Lance gasped, and choked on a laugh. “Well, look at you,” he said softly, reaching forward and silently asking Lux for permission to hold her. Lux had graciously accepted, dumping the baby in Lance’s arms. Lance bundled her to his chest, eyes never once leaving her. “Hey, you,” he said. “Hey, pretty girl.”

He looked up at Lux. “How old is she?” he asked.

Lux shrugged. “Less than a deca-phoeb, more than a few cycles. Everyone who would know is dead.” He sighed. “But she is not sick, so she cannot stay here. Though I fear sending her out to some other family will expose her to the sickness just the same.”

“So what will you do?” Lance said, arms unconsciously tightening around her.

“I could surrender her to the Tun government,” Lux said. “I’m sure they would not deny a helpless child, the way they’ve denied us.”

“No,” Lance said quickly. He had had enough talks with the Tun governor to know his feelings on the subject of Galra assistance. “They would, believe me.”

“Then what is it you suppose I do, blue paladin?” Lux said frustratedly, tugging at the fur on his head. “I cannot take care of her. I am exposed to the illness every day.”

“Oh, easy,” Lance had said lightly, looking down at the baby and smiling. She scowled back, and it was a familiar expression. He looked back up at Lux, grin still stretched across his face.

“ _I’ll_ take her.”

So he did, and Keith would like to say he was surprised, but he had definitely been waiting for something like this to happen. Lance had been going a little baby-crazy. The castle and the team were already as prepared as they were ever going to be. And anyway, in the end, it hadn’t taken more than a glimpse of Andrea’s frowny expression for Keith to fall head over heels.

“So what you’re telling me,” Allura is saying with a look of extreme confusion on her face, “is that this...man...breaks into your home every deca-phoeb on the same night...and you do nothing to prevent it?”

“Well, we leave him cookies,” Hunk says, shrugging. He looks over at Keith, sitting on the couch feeding Andrea, and winks. “And milk. As a thank you.”

Allura speaks slowly. “For...breaking into your home?”

“You do not take precautions?” Coran asks. He’s wearing a gaudy Christmas hat, but he has the floppy bit pushed forward. The puff ball at the end bops him in the nose with every word. “Even with Earth’s primitive security measures, you must be able to thwart intruders?”

“Yeah, no,” Hunk says. He takes a large bite of a stocking-shaped cookie, and Keith bites back a snort. “We _want_ him to come in. He leaves presents.”

“And you _trust_ these gifts?” Allura cries. “Unconditionally? You do not even consider the possibility that they may be a trap?”

“To be fair,” Pidge says, breezing into the room, trailing tinsel. “We don’t really have a choice. He has us on constant surveillance.” She stops and lays a strand of tinsel delicately across Andrea’s forehead. Andrea’s brow furrows, but she continues sucking at her bottle. “He is all-seeing and omnipotent.”

“Excuse me?” Allura says.

“Right,” Hunk says, nodding seriously. “He sees you when you’re sleeping.”

“He knows when you’re awake,” Pidge says solemnly.

Coran gasps.

“Guys could you maybe not traumatize the aliens?” Shiro says exasperatedly. He’s delicately placing ornaments on the tree in the middle of the common room.

Well, “tree” is being a bit generous, considering Pidge had cobbled it together out of scrap metal.

“Look,” Shiro continues, giving the Alteans a kind, pitying look. “Don’t take them seriously, Santa isn’t—”

Matt comes from around the back of the tree and slams a palm over Shiro’s mouth. “A bad guy!” he finishes, glaring at Shiro. “He’s a good guy. He gives us presents, free of charge, and the only thing he asks is that we leave him cookies. He does this for every child in the world!”

“ _Every_ child?” Allura asks, suspiciously.

“Every child,” Matt says seriously. “Which is why we have to have a Christmas tree this year for Andy.”

“Call my child Andy again and see what happens,” Keith says.

“Surely he won’t be able to reach us here,” Coran says. “We’re solar systems away from Earth!”

“He’s an immortal wizard,” Hunk says. “There are billions of people on Earth, and he visits all of them in one night! Do you really think he is able to do this without inter-dimensional time travel? There’s no way he’s skipping us.” He turns to Keith and smiles down at Andrea.

Like a miracle, she smiles back, awkward around her bottle. Hunk is one of the only three people on the ship who can get her to smile. “He’ll be here in four days with _hundreds_ of presents for my best girl in the universe,” he tells her, baby-talking. He holds up four fingers. “Can you count with me, Andrea? Four days. One...two...three...four—”

Allura looks intensely uncomfortable at this, and Coran stalks quickly out of the room, muttering about strengthening the castle’s defense systems. A moment later, Allura turns to follow, peeking around corners like Santa Claus is there waiting for her, ready to pounce.

As soon as they’re gone, the room erupts in laughter, and Shiro sighs.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Pidge says. “How long do you think we can keep it up?”

Hunk wipes tears from his eyes, clutching at his stomach. “As long as possible, please, it’s too good.”

“You guys are such dicks,” Keith says, but he’s laughing too. “You realize they're going to be staking out the castle on Christmas Eve. I doubt Coran will move away from the security footage for the entire night. Good luck pulling that off.”

“Don’t worry,” Pidge says slyly. “I already have a plan for that.”

Matt perks up. “Oh shit, you mean—?”

“ _Yes_.”

“ _Hell_ yeah,” Matt says, rubbing his hands together. Then, he turns to Shiro and punches him in the arm.

“I didn’t feel that,” Shiro says.

“You,” Matt says, ignoring him, “are such a downer. Even if we weren’t tricking the Alteans, how could you even try to say Santa is you-know-what with Andy in the room?”

“Matt, I swear to god,” Keith says.

“She’s six months old,” Shiro says.

“Matt, you told me Santa wasn’t real when I was _four_ ,” Pidge says. Both Hunk and Matt gasp. Hunk gently places his hands over Andrea’s giant ears.

“Shut up, that was Asshole Matt,” Matt says. “We are in a different era. I’m Uncle Matt, now. I have to adopt Keith and Lance’s child as my niece because I know you will never give me children who aren’t robots.”

“You sound like our mother,” Pidge says darkly.

“And anyway!” Matt continues, waving his arms in the air. Tinsel falls off of him like rain. “You were attempting to calculate the velocity of Santa’s sleigh. With crayons. And you couldn’t because you were _four_ and also because it’s impossible and it was stressing you out! I had to do _something_!”

“You traumatized me for life,” Pidge says, deadpan.

“I mean, it’s not _technically_ impossible, now that we know wormhole technology exists,” Hunk says. Andrea takes that moment to finish her bottle and chuck it at him, yelling wordlessly. Hunk catches it easily. “Awww, thanks Andrea! But anyway, Santa _could_ just have a crazy shit ton of Quintessence and know how to manipulate it.”

“Are you implying that Santa Claus is Altean?” Shiro asks.

Hunk shrugs. “Who knows, man? Keith’s dad managed to make the beast with two backs with a Galra back in the nineties. Anything is possible.”

Keith makes a face. “Ugh, thanks for that Hunk,” he says. “And, I mean, I appreciate it Matt, but you don’t have to worry about Andrea.” Keith thinks it’s a little too early to bother with these rituals, considering Andrea will definitely not remember it, but Lance refuses to listen to him. It doesn’t help that Keith has never, in his entire life, believed in Santa. His dad had never bothered with the ruse, and most of his foster parents hadn’t managed to be very convincing. “And please don’t call her Andy,” he adds as an afterthought.

Before Matt can say anything else, the doors slide open and Lance sweeps in.

“Hello all!” he says, decked out head to toe in Christmas paraphernalia. “That’s right, he’s here. It’s me! Christmas Dad!”

His sweater does, in fact, say “Christmas Dad” in sparkly letters. His santa hat has the word “SPICY” written across it in glitter glue. Lance had brought all of this stuff back from their last visit to Earth. In _June._ Keith suspects it’s all homemade.

He has mistletoe strapped to a bracelet on his wrist, and he takes turns holding it above the heads of everyone in the room, kissing them all. He presses a loud, smacking kiss to Hunk’s forehead, and a delicate one to Shiro’s cheek. He licks up the side of Pidge’s face and she punches him. Him and Matt share a theatrical, movie-style kiss, complete with a dip.

By the time he reaches Keith, Keith has the hand not full of baby outstretched in a preventive measure. “Your face has just touched the face of every person in here,” he says.

“Awww, baaaabe, come oooon,” Lance says, but his pouting is quickly interrupted by the sight of his daughter. “Oh, is that my Christmas baby? Is that my beautiful, winter snowflake? Is that my gorgeous baby elf princess?” He plucks her out of Keith’s arms and dangles his mistletoe above her head, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. She giggles, grabbing at it with her little hands.

“Look at the tree,” he says, sitting down next to Keith and pointing up at the shiny, glitter monstrosity that’s overtaken their living space. “Look how pretty, Andrea. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Andrea doesn’t seem too interested, focusing on patting her hands all over Lance’s face. Lance sighs. “She’s definitely your child,” he says to Keith. “She got your complete lack of Christmas spirit.”

“Hey, I have Christmas spirit,” Keith protests. He tugs at the bottom of his green sweater. “I may not be _Christmas Dad_ —”

“Nope, the position of Christmad Dad is taken,” Lance says. He reaches behind him and grabs for one of the five million toys that are scattered all over the castle ship, waving it over Andrea’s head to distract her from his face. “You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Oh, you can have it,” Keith says, relaxing back into the couch with a sigh. Pidge has activated the hundreds of lights embedded in the tree, and they’ve turned off the overhead lights to properly appreciate it. Matt, Hunk, and Shiro all dutifully clap when she demonstrates how they are capable of changing color on command. “Do you think she’ll sleep tonight?” he asks.

Lance snorts. “If she does, it’ll be a Christmas miracle.” He gives Andrea the toy. and she shoves it in her mouth. Keith drapes an arm around the both of them, basking in the warm light of the room and the feeling of Lance at his side. A quick glance at Andrea shows that she’s falling asleep, mouthing at her toy. Keith knows that’s not a good sign, that if she sleeps now she’ll be up all night, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it.

Lance sighs, dropping his head onto Keith’s shoulder. “You know, I think this is better,” he says, out of nowhere.

“Hmm?” Keith says, shaken out of his light doze. “What is? Better than what?”

“Better than all the...all the craziness,” Lance says, gesturing forward. “All that stuff we did, before. The daredevil stuff to prove our love. When we were young and reckless.”

“I am twenty-seven years old, and I just want to remind you that that was all your idea,” Keith says. “And we didn’t have to ‘prove’ anything. It was already there. We were just showing off.”

“Hmm, true,” Lance says. “But still, this is nicer.” He turns to look at Keith’s face. “I’m happy. I hope we stay this way forever.”

Keith feels warm all over. He leans over to press a kiss to Lance’s forehead, soft and lingering. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too. I’m really happy.”

Lance hums contentedly, leaning back onto Keith’s shoulder. Keith lets himself relax, closing his eyes against the soft golden glow of the Christmas tree. The two of them lead exhilarating, busy, and more often than not dangerous lives, but at the end of the day they have this. They have each other, and their family. Keith thinks that maybe it is better, enjoying these small comforts. Maybe they had been chasing happiness when they had it all along.

They fall asleep like that, warm and together and dreaming of the future.

**Author's Note:**

> pidge's plan for christmas consists of two words: hologram santa.
> 
> come talk to me about it on [tumblr](http://wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> #letteamvoltronsayfuck #sappyshit


End file.
